|Sunday 4th Lunchtime|
“Well l told Mavis that it wasn’t on.” George said to his Brother.
“Why ever not?” Asked Albert
“Because it wasn’t on, l wasn’t wearing it!” George laughed.
“Oh right, so some more of the infamous George humour then eh?”
“The hearing aid Albert is for hearing and l didn’t want to hear her going on, so l decided to simply not wear it.”
George guffawed. ”On another note, Alby, have you seen or heard from Harold recently?”
“No, why, is he ok or is he still dying from whatever and whichever flu is doing the rounds?”
“Well you know Harold he isn’t well unless he is dying from something or the other. But no, he isn’t dying, but did l tell you about his new Doctor at the surgery? The young one?”
“No, l don’t think so, is he any good?” Albert enquired.
“I don’t know about his doctoring, but by all accounts he has a keen sense of humour and has clocked Harold’s way!”
“Really how so? Has Harold finally met his match?”
“Aye, l think so, l do indeed!” George cackled and continued with his story. ”I saw Harold yesterday at home, and he said he is never using that surgery again, and that the doctor should be struck off for bad humour! That he was a wilful whippersnapper, who wouldn’t recognise an ailing man if he slapped him in the face!”
“No way?” Albert said looking somewhat befuddled. “Why, what happened?”
“Well, and this is according to Harold’s version of events … he was convinced he was dying yet again, l mean what is he now 97, and he is still going strong? He said he went to see the doctor for a check-up, bloods, urine test, the works, and he went back for his results when this ‘terrible time’ happened, which has left him perplexed!”
“Perplexed?” said Albert.
“Oh aye, he is still spouting off about this, nearly a week on. You know Harold he wants a bed, and people pampering all over him, so he can avoid ‘her indoors’ who nags him all the time to stop complaining about dying, when there are other people who are dying!”
“This is fair, l think in truth.” said Albert.
“Not according to Harold, it isn’t he said. When he got there, the doctor looked grim, and Harold thought the worst, but in a strange way he said, finally, someone is taking me seriously! The doctor asked him to sit down, and then said that he had the results in and he had bad news!! Well you can imagine how Harold felt at hearing this? “What is it doctor is it bad he asked?”
The doctor said “You are dying Harold and don’t have much time.”
Harold was mortified at this prospect and said “how long have l got?”
To which point the doctor simply said ‘Ten.’
Dumbstruck Harold said “Ten? Ten what? Ten weeks, months, what exactly?”
“Nine, eight, seven, six … the doctor continued with a smile on his face.”
Well according to Harold, he leapt up spouting off as he can, and fled from the office in a fit of humiliation! With the doctor calling after him, “You are the healthiest dying man l know Harold, see you next week!”
Well Albert, l tell you now, l nearly choked on my biscuit, l laughed so hard at Harold’s indignation of it all, he still hasn’t gone back to the surgery for his weekly moan you know!” George laughed!
“Oh poor Harold, yep he was clocked all right!” Albert laughed getting up from their table. “What are you having George, another pint of Badgers?”